


hell is empty and all the devils are here

by secretfeanorian



Series: made of starlight [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: Gen, Isengard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:39:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretfeanorian/pseuds/secretfeanorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rawlind didn't know she had this much hate in her heart, but the world often surprises her, because here she is in a wagon being taken to Isengard and she wants to rip out the heart of the man responsible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hell is empty and all the devils are here

**Author's Note:**

> My interpretation of the Epic Vol 3, Book 4, Chapter 18 Instance in Lord of the Rings Online because I needed to write because it’s been so long, but “the worst things” wasn’t working, so…here.
> 
> Fyi, “Mai” is my lm’s saber cat, short for Mairon, don’t ask.

_Now it’s time to say goodbye to the things we loved and the innocence of youth.//This world is unforgiving, even brilliant lights will cease to burn._

* * *

A groan escapes the woman’s lips as she finally comes to, but nor the drivers of the wagon or the guards surrounding it hear. The only one who notices is the man sitting across from her and when he does, he attempts to move to her. His attempt is hampered by the chains around his wrists and he pulls at them halfheartedly. With no other option, he waits for the woman to fully regain consciousness.  
  
Several more minutes pass before this happens and when it does, she violently jolts out of the slumped position she had fallen into after being thrown into the cart. She looks around wildly, soft curses falling from her mouth, but her panic ebbs slightly when her eyes meet those of the man sagged across from her. She attempts to move over to him, but meets resistance in the form of her own set of chains. Still disorientated, it takes a moment for the realization to hit her, but when it does, her panic seems to return. Before she can speak, her companion whispers, “We were betrayed. The Falcon Clan went over to Saruman.” He speaks calmly enough, but the woman can hear the hatred in his tone and his hands are clenched tightly around the chains.  
  
The woman groans and slams her head against the interior of the cart. “Why couldn’t you have said ‘You just had a horrible dream, Raw, everything’s fine-ish’ instead?” There is a note of forced humor in her tone and despite the way she said it, her companion can tell she is trying to cheer him up.  
  
His expression doesn’t change and the attempt falls short. Sensing this, the smile slides off the woman’s face and she swallows. “Dare I ask where we are being taken?” She knows where they are being taken, of course, the parting words of Lheu Brenin still seem to echo through her head and her companion once again says nothing. She sighs, then shivers, and this causes the man across from her to once again try to reach her, even though he knows it is pointless. “I’m fine,” She waves him off, but they both know this is a lie. The two fall silent once more and for a while, they just sit there, listening to the sounds around them; the birds, the wagon’s wheels and the low voices of the treacherous Falcon Clan warriors escorting their prisoners to Isengard.  
  
The man suddenly winces as the cart is jostled, likely going over a bump in the path and the woman’s face twists. He doesn’t seem to notice the vengeful glint in her eyes, but either way, when she whispers his name, he shuts her down almost instantly. “I’m fine, Rawlind."

Rawlind snorts, likely in disbelief, but she doesn’t press the matter any further than a raised eyebrow in his direction and a soft sigh.  
  
The cart suddenly comes to an abrupt halt and the prisoners within hear shouts. Rawlind leans forward, staining against the tight chains, but she can’t reach far enough to see out of the small window in the cart’s door. After a few minutes, the shouting and the sounds of fighting that had swiftly risen to accompany it fall silent once more. Rawlind shifts uneasily. “Lothrandir…” She starts to say, but is cut off by an animal’s cry of pain. Her face suddenly reads panic and she attempts to rise to her feet, seemingly forgetting about the chains holding her back. “Mai!” She cries out and falls back against the side of the cart. This time, she doesn’t give up and starts yanking her arms in a fruitless attempt to break free.  
  
A collection of voices start up from outside the cart and Lothrandir attempts to quiet her.  A few seconds later, the door to the cart is pulled open and the glaring face of a Falcon Clan warrior enters the cart. He opens his mouth to say something, likely to yell a reprimand and a demand for silence, but before he can get a single word out, Rawlind twists and kicks him in the face. He falls backward out of the cart, but before she can do anything more, another warrior appears and slaps her face. Her head is forced aside by the force of the slap and for a moment, she falls still as she struggles to throw off the daze the slap had brought. The man advances toward her, but before he can get close enough to grab her, Lothrandir twists in turn and lands a forceful kick between the man’s legs. He drops, but recovers rather quickly. Another warrior appears and they unchain him and drag him from the cart. Rawlind is left within, but the soft noises of pain that soon rise up are unmistakably Lothrandir’s and easier to identify are the sounds of a whip striking bared flesh.  
  
Several minutes pass in this fashion, although to the woman waiting within, they seem to stretch on like hours. Finally, the whip falls silent and it is only another minute or so before Lothrandir is dragged back into the cart, re-chained, and the door slammed shut again. It takes several more minutes for the group to begin moving again and in those minutes, neither Lothrandir nor Rawlind say anything as the ranger struggles to catch his breath.  
  
The cart begins moving before he does and for another few minutes, the only sound within the cart itself is Lothrandir’s ragged breathing. Finally, Rawlind breaks the silence, “I’m sorry, Loth-” The rest of his name, she chokes on and when Lothrandir looks up, he can see tears forming in her eyes. He shakes his head, but does not speak for several more minutes. When he does, his voice is hushed and trembles just a little.  
  
“Mai was here,” He says and Rawlind think she may have imagined it, but the pain in his voice seems to grow with those three words. “It appears he followed the Falcon after escaping initial capture and attacked when he perceived a weakness.”  
  
“But there wasn’t one,” Rawlind’s voice is surprisingly steady, but there are now a few tears falling freely down her cheeks.  
  
Lothrandir nods, then pauses to wince softly as the action irritates his injuries. “Or there wasn’t as much a weakness as he thought. Or it simply wasn’t enough.” He falls silent once more and curses his bonds as he watches his companion fight back more tears.  
  
“They killed him,” She says flatly, not even asking. She knows. Still, a choked sob leaves her mouth when Lothrandir nods again. “Those pig-loving bastards.”  
  
Despite their situation, Lothrandir can’t make himself hold back a soft chuckle. Rawlind smiles briefly at him through her tears, but the smile soon falls from her face and she sniffles quietly.  
  
Only two or three minutes pass before she again looks up and asks, “How long have I been unconscious?”  
  
“Several days,” Comes the pained reply. “They really knocked you out good.”  
  
Rawlind winces and wipes away the tears still clinging to her face, as well as drawing her shoulder under her nose. “That explains the lovely headache I woke up to.” She mumbles angrily. “Several days…” She draws off for a moment, thinking. “We must almost be to…to Isengard by now then.” She stumbles briefly, but swiftly recovers and Lothrandir nods once more.  
  
“I would imagine so,” He says.  
  
“Shit,” Is her only response and neither say anything more for several hours. Lothrandir drifts off at some point and just as Rawlind begins to feel her eyelids getting heavy, the cart jolts to a stop.  
  
Lothrandir starts awake and Rawlind’s eyes no longer feel heavy. The pair share a nervous look. They could simply be stopping because of an obstacle in the road or anything else, but somehow they both know this is not the case. Indeed, the door is soon pulled open once more, and the leering face of Iwan enters the cart. He doesn’t say anything; simply unchaining them and having them pulled from the back of the cart, but his expression says it all and the prisoners can soon see Isengard for themselves.  
  
Rawlind swallows and licks her lips, but Lothrandir bends over with his hands on his knees and starts taking in deep breaths. Rawlind’s eyes flick between him and the warriors surrounding them, but after only a few brief moments, moves her hand to rest gently on her companion’s shoulder. Unnoticed by the Dunlendings, it tightens protectively and her stance grows tighter as well. Her eyes skim the area and lands on the two trolls guarding the gates behind them. They then narrow and she takes a deep breath. Sensing what she is thinking, Lothrandir lifts a hand to grasp hers. “You are unarmed,” He whispers, but the Dunlendings hear anyway and close in around them.  
  
Rawlind inhales deeply and then lets it out loudly. “And you could not keep up for long anyway.” She responds and lets go of his shoulder. She almost seems to deflate, but the Falcons do not lower their guard and Lothrandir can hardly blame them. They’ve seen enough of what she can do to be wary, even nervous, or afraid, regardless of whether or not she is armed. Her eyes scan their surroundings once more and then rest on Iwan. He sneers. She glares. A silence reigns over the small party before Iwan looks away and breaks it.  
  
“Let us go,” He says uneasily, “I do not want to stay here any longer than I need to. I will leave you captives with someone and be back on the wagon headed for Tûr Morva before the next bell.” It is Rawlind’s turn to sneer and Iwan seems to be considering taking a step back for all the hatred in that single glance. She then turns to Lothrandir, who is still bent over and struggling to catch his breath.  
  
“I…I am…” He says, then draws off, seemingly unable to continue. Not for the first time, Rawlind wonders how badly they had beaten him while she was unconscious and the hatred flares again in her heart, although there is no outward sign of her anger. “I cannot…go on like this…Rawlind. What...can we…?” He breaks off again, and Rawlind’s mouth tightens into a thin line. She isn’t clenching her fists yet, but she seems about to. His wounds must’ve been severe for moving only a small amount to leave him this breathless.  
  
Suddenly, Lothrandir straightens up and takes a deep breath. “I am Lothrandir of the Dunedain.” He says. The tremor in his voice is gone, but Rawlind cannot help but wonder how much it is costing him to banish it. “I have walked among the frozen wastes and the fiery south-lands.” He continues, “I do not fear this place.” Then, to perhaps everyone’s surprise, he is running into the heart of Isengard. After a brief pause, Rawlind follows him and the Dunlendings have to rush to keep up. It is a small gesture, but it is better than nothing and Rawlind feels a glimmer of hope return to her.  
  
There is a tall Uruk-hai waiting for them up the path and a cruel smile graces his face when he sees them.

“These are the captives?” The question does not seem to be directed at anyone in particular and he swiftly adds “Scrawny things” before one of the Dunlendings, likely Iwan, can answer. Lothrandir doesn’t respond and doesn’t look the Uruk in the eye, but almost involuntarily, Rawlind’s eyes meet his. If possible, his smile becomes even more unpleasant. “We will keep you busy, little woman, and your friend too. I think the Old Man will want to speak with him directly.”  
  
Panic creeps up on Rawlind’s heart and threatens to choke her. Belatedly, she realizes that of course they would be split up. Somehow, she manages to keep all traces of her panic off of her face, but she can’t stop herself from biting her lip and the Uruk-hai notices. “There’s a place for you in the caves below, if Fâsh doesn’t kill you first. If you have any fortune at all, you won’t see me again.” He pauses, “You’re ours now. Let’s see how long you last.”  
  
The Dunlendings are dismissed without hardly being acknowledged at all and despite their situation, Rawlind smiles slightly at this.

Lothrandir is grabbed by one of the other Uruk-hai standing nearby and the smile instantly leaves her face. Two more grab her and as the Uruk who’d met them turns to follow Lothrandir, he sends one more mocking series of sentences after her. “You are Fâsh’s problem now. He will find work for you. Ha!” The comment ends with a derisive laugh and then he turns his back on her.  
  
Rawlind struggles against her captors until Lothrandir is out of sight and then half sags against them and allows herself to be dragged away. The hope that had only brief moments ago returned to her begins to seep out, replaced by an overpowering feeling of dread.

**Author's Note:**

> To add some worldbuilding (ish), Rawlind is my loremaster from LotRO. The pet she has at this point in the timeline is the grey saber-cat, named Mairon for complex and slightly ridiculous reasons. She calls him Mai all the time (pronounced "May"). Also, I have a shipping problem and ship Rawlind and Lothrandir really hard. At this point, they haven't really...they aren't dating for lack of a better term.  
> AND I KNOW, I should be working on an update for "the worst things in life come free to us", I know, I'm really sorry. I actually sat down to write more of that series, but I've been playing a lot of Lord of the Rings Online lately; like a LOT; and thus I've been reminded of this half-forgotten character/ship. So...oops? I kind of started writing this instead without really noticing and now I have a new series. I haven't abandoned "the worst things", I promise, I've just had a lot of trouble writing lately. At least I'm writing at all, right? :P


End file.
